No Lady
by Angelique Daemon
Summary: Freya travels to Treno half-cocked, and unsure of why she's even there, and finds out some hard truths about herself.


**Title:** No Lady

**Pairing:** Amarant/Freya

**Rating:** R (language/situation)

**Author Notes:** You know, I'm not even really sure what to say about this. It's inspired by a story I read called "Raw," which was written by an author by the name of Ace-of-spades3 over on , and it's got a couple nods to a few other stories I've really enjoyed wrapped up in it too. I guess... this is kinda a Freya POV on an awkward, and unwanted situation. Forgive me if this is awkward, I _never_ write in first person. Enjoy, and please review.

What was I doing in Treno? I honestly had no idea. I'd asked myself a hundred times on the way from Burmecia to this god awful hell hole what I'm doing. I mean, Treno isn't exactly the place for someone like me. A Royal Dragon Knight of the kingdom of Burmecia, someone with culture, and class that has been taught proper and chivalric behavior traipsing through dirty streets filled with criminals and thieves no matter what part of the city you're in? It sounds preposterous, does it not? But here I was, walking through the cobbled street as my feet carried me to streets made of rough-hewn boards, where the squalor sprawls in its ungainly, filthy glory, and people watch you from the shadows, trying to decide whether or not they should slit your throat and take your money. This was no place for me, no place for Freya Crescent, noble dragoon, and one of the saviors of the world. So _why_ was I _here_?

It was the rain. I had decided that when I left home, I needed to get out of the rain. I loved my homeland dearly, and it had taken me _ages_ to adjust to being under a clear sky and a warm sun, but... I've found that I've come to crave it. To crave a cessation from the eternal downpour, to bask in the sun and the warmth, and the feel the dry wind blow over my skin, carrying away any trace of dampness. I had enjoyed the trip here, that was for sure. The lush greenness of the grass and the forests had been soothing to my tired eyes, so long exposed to grey dreariness. And now? Now I was in this deplorable City of Eternal Night, a city of shadows and treachery and I was standing outside a rough bar on planks of unfinished, slowly warping wood. By rights, I should have been drawing a crowd, or rather _more_ of a crowd. The only reason I wasn't is because I was incognito... which is to say I wasn't wearing my armor and signature dragon skin coat and hat. People have trouble telling Burmecians apart... hell, most of them can't tell a Burmecian from a Cleyran, unless there is a specific uniform involved. As it was, I was wearing an altogether shapeless hooded robe that I had changed into before entering the city... because I don't care how little I wanted to be recognized, I don't traipse through the wilderness without my armor.

So I stood outside the bar, letting my thoughts wander, and run around in circles, chasing their tails. Why? Why didn't I just go in, order a drink, and then relax at a table in the back? I could have played a game or two of cards, and it would've pay for my drinks at least. It was a nice distraction from the rain, and _he_ might be there...

I pushed the thought aside, refusing to dwell on it. Maybe it was childish and befitting of a noble knight of Burmecia, but I didn't want to think about it, I wanted to run from that thought, even as it dogged my heels. Why was I here? Because he probably was.

"Well hello there, love," a voice drawled uncomfortably close to my ear and an arm slid around my shoulder... and another slid around my waist. Neat trick. "You look like you could use some company," the voice went on as I turned my head to shoot a warning glare out from under my hood at a man with four arms, his eyes obscured by a mask. He ignored the look and grinned at me, "Never had me a Burmecian before. Come on, love, I'll show you why four hands are better than two."

I turned the hand he had mostly pinned to my side and dug my claws into his ribs, "Release me this instant," I demanded, "or else I shall make sure you regret it."

He leered at me, even as he winced. That was also a neat trick, I had to admit, "Come on love, give it a chance... and don't worry, I like me a little clawing."

I scowled and prepared myself to Jump. It might not be the most dignified and noble thing to do, but I was all for launching myself into the air, and throwing this jerk to the ground and watching him splat. Uncharitable, wrong, and vulgar as that thought was, it made me feel better, even as I wondered at how bloody-minded I had become. My thoughts, and my Jump, were interrupted by the door to the bar slamming open hard enough to shake the building. I would have ignored it expect for the person standing in the doorway... or what I could see of him. My view consisted mostly of a giant wall of green and blue. Green clothing and blue skin. I froze like a rabbit in front of a hunter, forgetting even the man hanging off me. The wall blocking the door shifted, and a head crowned with ropes of blood red hair ducked into view as the man slouched to fit out the door, turning aside as well so his shoulders would fit. My heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him, and I opened my mouth to greet him... until I saw the... chippy on his arm. Then the fumes hit me. Both of them wreaked of alcohol, but her more so than him... alcohol and desire. Oh. I felt a flush heat my cheeks, and I quickly looked away.

The man beside me was still trying to talk me into his bed, badly, but I had had enough. I dug my claws harder into his side, feeling a slight surge of pleasure as they pierced his skin. I pirouetted with the grace my people are known for, and punched him straight in the gob with all of my embarrassment and anger behind the punch. It felt great as the arms around me went slack with shock and pain and he stumbled back, two hands flying up to hold his face. I followed his stumble and kicked him in the chest with one powerful leg. I'd kicked Zidane once, just playing, and he had declared it was like being kicked by a hundred chocobos. I had told him to stop exaggerating, but when I felt bone give under the force of the kick, I wondered if maybe I had been unfair to my former comrade.

There was a loud, drunken laugh behind me as it seemed the happy couple had paused to watch the scene. I ignored the way that laugh reverberated in his barrel chest before coming out as an amused, slightly rusty rumble, as though he did not laugh often. He didn't, I knew that for a fact actually, and I squashed the small feeling of pleasure I had always gotten from the few times I had made him laugh. "Y'should watch it Jack," he slurred, "Rats are always trouble, trus' me."

There was an empty-headed twitter that had to be the girl on his arm, and I contemplated turning around and pulling my hood down to reveal my identity... but I discarded the idea as too dramatic, especially when it was entirely possible that he would be too blind damn drunk to recognize me. I settled for muttering, "You would know," under my breath.

The four-armed man, Jack, had gotten to his feet, holding his ribs with two arms, while a third hand clutched at his nose to try to stem the bleeding, "Piss off Coral," he snarled, "You have your bint for the night."

Bint. Yes, he had his... his _doxy_ for the night, a tiny little, dark, buxom thing, hanging off his arm and tittering like a... retarded budgie! I was fed up, and refused to take part in this comedy of errors anymore. I bunched the muscled in my legs, and jumped... or tried to. A hand around my ankle stopped me from getting to the roof of the bar where I had been planning to land. I shot out with my free foot and kicked the scowling Jack right in the face. Unsurprisingly he went down, unconscious now, and I braced myself to land in an ungraceful heap on the wooden street. Imagine my surprise, and loss of breath, when I landed on an arm like a steel beam, folding around it as gravity tried to pull me back down into its embrace. I wheezed, my ears laying back as I tried to catch my breath. I was set down almost gently, but still in an undignified heap. "Go home, rat," that deep voice rumbled somewhere above me, and my heart stopped as I wondered if he had recognized me, "s'no place for a lady." I heard him turn and gather up his chippy, telling her to shut up when she made some stupid comment about him not considering her a lady. Of course she was not a lady, she was picking up known criminals in a bar to take home for a quick roll in the hay...

But... could I call myself a lady? Laying there on the unfinished warped wood in front of a back alley bar, in Treno, a known hive of scum and villainy, could I be considered a lady? Why was I here? No lies? I was here to see Amarant. I was here to pick up a known criminal in a bar to go home with... but um... without the roll in the hay. Well... not a quick roll anyway, I wasn't stupid, I knew that certain things tended to be... in proportion, and the only way to escape such an encounter mostly unscathed would require a lot of time and effort, and...

My cheeks burned and my eyes stung with embarrassment and despair. Being with Fratley, laying next to him, touching him and being touched by him, there was always another in my mind. When Fratley's pleasant, cultured voice whispered endearments in my ears, I imagined a rougher, voice grunting crudely worded, but heartfelt sentiments. I imagined _far_ larger hands that could envelope almost my entire torso, scarred from fights, and radiating strength, trembling slightly at the foreign concept of being gentle. I imagined those hands moving over my body, stroking my skin softly, exploring tenderly. Oh it was probably a stupid fantasy, given what I knew of the monk, but I could not help myself. I had come here to try to make those fantasies a reality... or at the very least to see if he was even remotely interested. Now I was sure he wasn't. I had seen that beautiful little dark, curvy woman on his arm, what would he want with a pale, skinny rat?

Why was I here? I was here to see Amarant. I was here to see if Amarant wanted me, and if he did I was here to... I laughed and it was a bitter sound that ended in a sob, "Gods damn you Amarant," I ground out. What was a lady like me doing in a hell hole like this? Nothing. I was no lady.


End file.
